


Dare you see?

by Melodious329



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: Written for this Kink prompt:In pretty much every ageplay fic I've read, it's the person in the kid role whose neediness finally breaks through their embarrassment and makes them ask for what they need. And that's hot as balls, but I'd really like to see it going the other way, with someone noticing that his partner is acting kinda... paternal. And that it's really hot. And then the truth is coaxed into the light of day, and there is much rejoicing. And smut, please.Bonuses:1. Loving, gooey aftercare.2. Total and utter embarrassment on the part of "daddy."3. All the feels.





	Dare you see?

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the first Avengers movie and ignores the movies that come after. 
> 
> Also I'm not well-versed in Daddy!kink so it may not have gone as far as the prompt wanted. Also this fic is not meant to delve into the issues of Depression, though in my opinion, a strong case can be made for applying that to Steve's behavior. I didn't feel qualified to delve into that so I would put Steve's problems in this fic down to homesickness which I have more experience with :)

It’s evening and the Avenger’s common area of Tony’s tower is quiet and dim when Steve gets off the elevator.  The broad shoulders are tight after a long day of mission planning at SHIELD and his stride is purposeful as he heads immediately to their common kitchen, spurred by his ever-insatiable metabolism.  But despite the quiet atmosphere, the kitchen isn’t empty.  Thor is sitting at the table in jeans with his hair loose, his legs spread wide over a chair at their dining table. 

His greeting is a smile and a simple statement of his name that has Steve’s shoulders finally relaxing from their place near his ears.  Thor holds out a hand to Steve, to draw him closer and that’s when Steve’s eyes flick to the table.  There are several plates of food despite that it’s hours after dinnertime.  Though Thor has a big appetite and has been known to eat at all hours of the day and night, Steve knows that the food is for him.  Thor always seems to be trying to feed him these days.  Sometimes he regrets telling the other alien about his dietary requirements, because ever since Thor has been overly solicitous.  At first, he assumed it to be a form of flirting, but since they’ve become a couple, it has only gotten worse. 

A sharp tug on his hand has him almost falling into the other man’s lap.  Surprised, he tries to stand again, but Thor pulls him to sit on an overly muscular thigh, one arm around his waist.  He lets out a nervous giggle that he has to swallow along with a grape pressed to his lips.  It’s a common response, nervous laughter that dissolves as he realizes that Thor is serious.  But it’s not just the food in his mouth that prevents Steve from objecting.  Steve’s defensive comebacks that he can feed himself also die on his tongue.  Because he doesn’t want to disappoint Thor.  He likes too much the soft way Thor smiles at him, the way that this hundreds years old god looks at him like he’s precious, and even the way that Thor’s voice drops to a low and intimate register in praise. 

“Good boy,” Thor says as his other hand squeezes Steve’s waist. 

Thor feeds him whatever finger foods he found in the refrigerator, fruits and vegetables and sandwich meat.  Soon Thor’s fingers are slippery on his lips and Steve has relaxed, pressing his shoulder into Thor’s chest, aware of Thor’s thick thigh muscles underneath him.  Like he’s been bewitched, Steve relaxes into the treatment.    

But when they’re interrupted, the supersoldier basically takes flight for the first time unassisted.  He bumps his shin into another chair, trying to get away while Clint slides into the room, followed closely by Natasha.  Steve makes it to the other side of the table, gripping the back of a chair awkward and horrified while Natasha’s eyes rove over the blush covering Steve’s fair skin.  Steve can’t decide if he’s more embarrassed at being caught in a public display of affection or if it was the particular position he was in, sitting on another man’s lap like a woman or a…child.

The room is silent.  Natasha only leans one hip against the table, as if settling in for a long chat.  Clint continues on his way to the refrigerator, not looking at the two blondes, but he tosses over his shoulder, “Not near the food!”

Like a cattle prod, the words drive Steve from the room.  Steve’s face is still burning when Thor catches up to him outside his personal rooms.  But Thor seems exhilarated, laughing as he approaches, pushing Steve through the doorway with a kiss.  Thor spins him as the door closes behind them like Steve’s head spins at the changing emotions, from comfort to embarrassment to lust.  He hopes that it wasn’t almost being caught that revved Thor’s engine. 

Thor crowds him against the wall, but large hands cradle his head, protecting him even as Thor’s huge body flattens him.  Thumbs trace his cheeks down to the edge of his lips, before dropping to his chest, rucking up his buttondown shirt and unbuttoning it.  He reaches for his partner’s tshirt, but Thor knocks his hands away.  It’s not unusual and Steve relaxes into Thor’s ministrations, letting those hands smooth over his skin as the shirt is pushed off his shoulders.    

Thor moves him to the edge of the bed, kneeling to pull off Steve’s usual khakis and then pushing the supersoldier to sit.  Laying back, Steve watches, a willing supplicant as Thor strips off his tshirt, one hand coming up to run through his unruly hair causing his muscles to stand out from his abs to his bicep.  There’s a confident smirk on that bearded face as his hands move to the zip of his jeans, slowly opening them and pushing them off his muscular thighs.  Steve shivers and scoots back on the bed in preparation.  Thor crawls predatorily over him, on top of him, rubbing his beard against Steve’s entirely smooth skin, raising up red patches in his wake that make Steve shiver and moan. 

Steve reaches his hands up to touch that chest, but one by one, Thor laces their fingers together and presses his hands to the bed.  Giggling, Steve pulls at his hands, thinking that Thor is wrestling, but his hands are only pressed harder into the mattress.  He manages to suck in a breath before Thor is leaning down to steal his breath for a kiss.  Slowly, his hands are drawn together and pulled behind his head.  Thor transfers his grip to one hand, keeping Steve controlled while his other hand wanders down the pale muscular body.  Lips kiss over Steve’s pectoral to a tiny pink nipple while his free hand slides up on thigh to the juncture of his legs.  Steve opens his legs easily, throwing one over Thor’s hip. 

The rough pad of Thor’s finger circles over the whorls of his hole.  Thor knows exactly what to do, exactly what he likes.  That he likes the friction most, the barest push of a dry finger that makes Steve jerk and twist in the alien’s grasp. 

Thor reaches over him, skin brushing over his own teasingly to get the lube from the bedside table.  Instead of releasing Steve’s hands, Thor drips a cool puddle onto Steve’s abs and then rubs his fingers through the mess.  The finger pushes in again, now wet with lube, but it stretches the tightly furled skin just like Steve likes.  Thor knows just where his spot is and how exactly to work him until he’s mindless with pleasure and starts mindlessly arching his back and pulling against the restraint. 

He wants to make Thor feel just as good, but he doesn’t know how.  And Thor doesn’t give him the opportunity as he’s quickly flipped onto his belly and Thor covers him like a blanket.  A bruising grip on his hips pulls him down the bed so Thor can rub the length of his cock between his asscheeks.  Steve manages to push up against Thor’s weight enough to shift into frog position, his hips in a split so that his cock rubs against the smooth sheets.  The head of Thor’s cock bumps against his hole, and their fingers are still entwined as Thor pushes in.  Steve arches, fidgeting at the huge stretch, but Thor knows not to stop, not to baby him.  Even when Steve comes what seems like moments after Thor penetrates him, Thor continues on the same slow, hard, and deep rhythm. 

When Thor’s rhythm finally stutters, Steve can only pant into the pillow that’s threatening to smother him, still stretched out and exposed and overstimulated.  It’s only after, after Thor gathers him up in strong arms, Steve’s cheek resting on Thor’s chest, that he is able to touch.  Finally, he feels as if he is the one soothing Thor with strokes of his hand along Thor’s breast.  But his thoughts keep him awake far past the time that Thor’s breathing has deepened in slumber. 

He remembers after the battle with the Chitauri, Thor had insisted on helping him back to the Helicarrier after their shwarma meal.  _And Steve had allowed it_ , because it felt like camaraderie.  Despite his own increased abilities, Thor could fly for heaven’s sake, but the alien hadn’t tried to exclude him from the battle or protect him, only helped him stand and fight again. 

Steve holds Thor a bit tighter as he remembers that he never actually expected to see Thor again, didn’t expect that this prince of an alien world would want to continue helping them against threats to their puny existence.  Thor surprised him one day in the kitchen as he was making breakfast after his morning run.  The Aesir had simply sat down, as if he had nothing more important to do.  As if he had nothing better to do in a whole new world than be with Steve. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned then about his metabolism and need for copious amounts of food.  Thor didn’t know much about him then, perhaps that weakness colored Thor’s impression of him.  But at first, Steve thought that the obsession with feeding him was Thor’s version of flirting with him.  The way that Thor would be around after his workouts, asking if he had eaten.  Steve assumed that it was an excuse to see him.  Giving him poptarts (“sustenance”) before his missions with SHIELD, sharing bites of food with him, Steve assumed that the behavior was much like tonight, flirtatious, verging on foreplay.   

But sometimes he’s not sure what to think.  It seems somehow more important that he first acknowledged. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

The mission the next day isn’t leaving until the afternoon, so the morning finds the two blonde Avengers dancing around each other in the sunbeams painting the kitchen linoleum.  On normal mornings, Steve eats a pot of oatmeal after his run, which is what he was doing the day that Thor returned to Earth.  Steve still remembers the look on Thor’s face when he tried the breakfast staple made the way that Mrs. Rogers did without butter or milk or sugar.  Today the dishes are overflowing with fluffy scrambled eggs and butter saturated pancakes, and he allows Thor to tease and wheedle for more of everything. 

It makes Steve smile at Thor’s antics.  He remembers his thoughts the previous night and thinks maybe he overreacted.  It’s not as if Thor doesn’t think he can contribute anything.  Of course, Thor is a terrible cook.  They’re lucky that Thor’s attempt at cooking didn’t cause worse damage to this Tower than the alien invasion. 

Steve smiles idly as he flips a pancake.  Thor’s hand lands on his back, smoothing his tshirt between his shoulder blades.  Ducking his face, Steve bite his lips, almost embarrassed by his happiness.  Thor’s hand moves down his back to circle his narrow waist and then Thor’s whole body presses against him as the slightly taller man peers over his shoulder. 

Steve’s breath shudders slightly as he exhales.  Sometimes he can’t help but wonder what Thor sees in him.  What could he, a broken lonely human offer this extraordinary prince?  Sometimes he had this nagging suspicion that Steve’s weakness is what attracts Thor, Steve’s pathetic human-ness.  And he hates the thought of that. 

Suddenly stiff with the thought, Steve turns away from Thor to finally plate up their food, trying to seem natural.  But Thor meets him on his way to the table, taking the plates away from him.  Thor sweeps over to the table, but Steve doesn’t take his seat.  The counter is a mess and he’d like to at least rinse things in case someone else wants to use the kitchen.  But Thor stops him with a hand on his arm that slides down to intertwine their fingers.  With a gentle tug, he encourages Steve to leave the counter and take a seat.  Feeling a bit chastised, Steve is startled when a big hand pushes his bangs off his forehead and then plants a chaste kiss on his temple.  The gesture makes Steve feel hot and wet, like a sucking chest wound and just as life-changing. 

The mission is entirely unremarkable, but he arrives back at the Tower past midnight feeling off-balance.  He drifts through the empty Tower like a ghost, the lights from the city through the floor length windows allowing him to see where he’s going.  The loud thumping of Tony down in his lab is audible even with the soundproofing and Steve changes directions.  Thor is upstairs waiting, he knows, but Steve finds himself down at the gym almost on autopilot.  Though, it’s never the obvious stressors that set him off, never the apocalyptic battle against aliens, no.  It’s always something inane, a woman whose hair is curled just so, the sound of a child calling for his friends, the smell of garbage in an alleyway even. 

Already having changed into sweats at SHIELD, he wraps tape around his knuckles and steps up to the bag like an old friend.  It’s not unusual for him to need some time to decompress after a mission.  The Howling Commandos often invited him to join them drinking, but he was often found going over maps and documents late into the night instead.  Tonight though, he feels somehow guilty for not even letting Thor know that he’s made it back safely.

But he has only just begun to work the bag when there’s a firm, “Stop.”  Steve doesn’t even feel surprised when he turns his face to see Thor marching over to him like a ghost summoned with a thought.  Contrition keeps him from objecting as Thor grabs first one hand and then the other, removing the wrap.  Steve hadn’t even started to sweat. 

Still holding onto his wrists, Thor pulls him away, but the grip isn’t rough like Thor is exasperated or angry with him.  The grip is firm but Steve could easily break free.  He doesn’t, but his eyes search Thor’s face for clues.  Thor looks sleep rumpled in loose pants and a tank, his eyes only half-opened but focused on searching Steve’s body for any injury. 

“I’m fine,” Steve reflexively defends as those hands hit a healing spot on his ribcage.  Honestly, he had forgotten that he had been injured more than bruises.  It’s not that his sense of pain was dulled by the serum, it’s only that pain is an old friend.  Before the serum, he was used to his chest hurting with every breath, and his bones aching, and the neverending headache.  After, it’s been hunger and bullet wounds and bruises from forgetting how tall he is now. 

Thor doesn’t disagree so much as disregard his comment.  He pulls up the edge of Steve’s tshirt, his huge hands framing the wound, but he still doesn’t speak.  After a moment, Thor is simply commanding him to follow him as he begins to pull Steve out of the room.  “Come.”

Steve’s feet are already following the other man when his mouth verbalizes his discomfort.  “I’m fine, Thor, really,” he tries.  “I’m just tired.  I’ll go to bed.  I don’t need you to baby me.”

And there, on Thor’s face, that’s what he didn’t want to cause.  Thor looks taken aback, hurt by his words as if Steve has accused him of something much worse than caring about his partner.  Reflexively, Steve’s own hands tighten, keeping Thor from walking away from him.

“I do not want to treat you as a baby,” Thor answers uncomfortably, and maybe it’s the light, but the tips of his ears look pink.  “I don’t.  I just want to comfort you.” 

Steve deflates, shuffling closer to the other blonde in apology, but no words leave his lips.  He follows as a blank Thor leads him into the living room to see that it has been set up already.  The lights are soft with a movie ready and waiting on the tv and a glass of milk on the coffee table.   Seeing the effort that Thor put in makes him feel a bigger fool for avoiding the other man.  Numb, he acquiesces as he’s guided down to sit and given the glass of milk.  But before he can even take a sip, his whole body quakes through a shiver. 

Already feeling off balance, the cold seems to go straight from his fingertips to freezing his lungs.  He might have dropped it, but the glass is whisked away before the next heartbeat and he’s suddenly smothered in the couch blanket.  Thor huffs a laugh as he whips the blanket off the back of the couch and covers the other blonde with it as Steve looks up at him with liquid doe eyes.  With sleight of hand, Thor manages to maneuver the huge supersoldier like he’s a small poodle.  With biceps straining the edges of the olive green tee he’s wearing, Thor cradles his partner on his lap and tucks the edges of the blanket around the other man.  Steve’s back leans on the arm of the couch, but Thor’s strong arm cradles him, a hand supporting the back of Steve’s head as the glass is brought to Steve’s lips.  The liquid is still just as cold, but being snuggled into Thor’s bulk helps and the milk is thick and sweet on his tongue.  Normally Steve waters down his milk, as his mother did, so he only has whole milk when Thor fixes it for him.  It feels like a treat. 

With a chest that still feels as if he’s being crushed slowly by a boulder, Steve drinks the milk.  He doesn’t consciously remember a time when he’s been fed like this.  He was sick a lot as a child, of course, and he knows that there were times when he was unable to feed or even hydrate himself in the hospital.  But if he was lucid, he always insisted on doing it himself, no matter how hard it was.  But now he’s not sick.  He doesn’t _need_ help.  And Thor doesn’t have to help him.  Thor _wants_ to do this.  And Steve doesn’t understand. 

The milk is finished and the movie is played.  And, slowly, Steve relaxes into Thor’s warmth.  Suddenly, he’s tired, more tired than a simple mission would engender.  His lashes flutter, his cheek mashed into Thor’s pec muscle as his body feels heavy.  He can feel each of Thor’s breaths, hear each beat of Thor’s surprisingly human heart.  Thor’s hand is gently stroking over his thigh, from his hip to his knee and back again, slowly.  And occasionally he can feel the scruff on Thor’s cheek disturb his hair. 

Steve is relaxed, but not asleep as Thor shifts again.  His biceps flex,, belying how easily he lifts the other man in his arms.  Barely jostled, Steve’s eyes remain closed as he’s carried to the elevators. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

When he wakes, the sun is already up, glinting off golden hair and shining straight into cornflower blue eyes.  Steve never closes his curtains because he’s always up for his run before sunrise.  Despite waking up in bed with Thor more often than not nowadays, he hadn’t really allowed himself to relax and let go of his routine.  He had clung to his routine instead of letting himself be happy. 

And that brings him to the sundrenched form beside him.  Somehow last night, Thor undressed both Steve and himself down to their underpants.  And now the other man lies on top of the covers gilded by the sunlight, having once again escaped the many layers of warmth that Steve sleeps under.  Thor is lying on his stomach, his face turned towards the window and Steve can’t help moving nearer even though there is a mound of blankets between them.  Still, he can feel Thor’s bulk through the divider and Thor must feel it too as he stirs, turning his face towards the disruption. 

Thor shows his emotions so easily, feels them so much, gives and receives comfort.  Without opening his eyes, Thor turns on his side, his top arm coming over Steve’s body and pulling him near.  Despite that they are nearly the same height, Thor manages once again to position them with Steve’s head underneath his chin, even while half-asleep. 

After such a good night’s sleep, Steve isn’t bothered by Thor’s tendencies.  Steve is recognizing the pattern of it all.  He pushes back against Thor, gives in, and then rationalizes it all in the morning.  IT’s becoming a little ridiculous, he realizes.  Steve sucks in a big breath, holds it a moment, and then lets it out slowly.  It stirs the long tendrils of Thor’s hair that have fallen around his face.  Steve can’t resist.  He squirms out one arm free of his blanket prison and twirls it around his finger.  He’s not prepared for the way that Thor suddenly stills, not breathing or moving as if he’s not sure what Steve is doing.  Or as if he’s savoring the moment, Steve suddenly realizes as Thor lets out his breath in a big rush and crushes Steve’s body to himself, his cheekbone even digging into Steve’s skull. 

Steve is still confused as he was only twirling a strand of Thor’s hair.  It seems a very juvenile thing to do, and Steve feels small.  In some ways, Steve feels that the body he has now is what he was meant to have his whole life.  And in some ways, it feels less like his body and more like a suit of armor, like Tony’s Ironman suit. 

He spent his whole life before the serum fighting against being seen as weak and useless.  But he knows that that weakness is his strength.  Now he remembers it as who he really is, now when there is no one else who remembers him as a man and not as an icon.  Perhaps he can accept feeling small in Thor’s arms because it doesn’t mean he’s weak. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

In the days following, the universe grants his wish to know how the dynamics of his relationship with Thor will work in an Avengers mission.  With the entire planet at stake, Thor can’t put Steve’s safety above the mission.  And more importantly to Steve, does Thor respect him when Steve lets the other man feed him like a child? 

It begins as a SHIELD mission that quickly becomes much more complicated and more deadly.  Steve hasn’t felt nervous like this since his stage debut punching ‘Hitler’.  Thor acts entirely unaffected than before their relationship.  No matter how Steve scrutinizes the thundergod’s every move. Thor follows his lead and offers an opinion without being defensive if Steve doesn’t take his side.  Well, he gets no more defensive any ‘god’ does when suffering the trials of ‘puny’ mortals anyway.  And he does not come running to Steve’s defense, even when Steve is injured as they all inevitably are. 

The only thing that Steve can point to is Thor handing him a protein bar and shake while they’re in the plane; but that is not only a petty complaint, it is also completely normal.  The plane is always stocked with easily consumed food for them all, but it is Thor and Steve who need these high calorie, high protein snacks and they often grab an extra whenever they eat one themselves. 

But quickly his concerns about his love life take a backseat to anxieties about the mission.  As usual, he can’t stop his brain from obsessing over all of his decisions in his head, second-guessing himself in hindsight what he didn’t have the luxury of hesitation in the moment.  Sometimes he still feels unworthy of this gift that he’s been given, the weight of it bearing him down like the ice did.  He still vividly recalls Colonel Phillips telling him that he was not enough.  How could any man possibly live up to being the only one instead of an army?

But he bears up and is calm and confident through the debrief, sees to the team and to the emergency workers before his celebrity causes too much of a problem.  He wishes that he could stay out there with them, and not just to hold off his own demons for a while longer, but eventually he sneaks away into his own rooms, alone. 

He doesn’t stay alone.  His back is to the door as it opens and he can see the reflection of Thor entering in his darkened windows.  Quickly, he drops his face away, not wanting to catch the other man’s eye.  His whole body tenses at the intrusion. 

“Your skills as a leader are unparalleled,” Thor starts.  “And I have known many.  There was no way to save more…”

Steve flinches, unable to stand Thor’s praise right then.  Perhaps there was no way to save more people, but he still mourns the loss of their lives and feels that guilt.  It becomes all wrapped up in the guilt he feels for Bucky, for Peggy’s grief, for himself and his lost life. 

“That doesn’t help them now,” he states forcefully to his own feet.  “I should have known from the beginning.  If I had been faster when that bomb was thrown.  If I spent more time learning technology instead of depending on Tony and SHIELD to tell me like a child.  If I weren’t so selfish…”

Without thought, he’s begun to pace the room, but his tirade is cut off as Thor grabs his arm and is suddenly pulling him off balance.  Confused, he lands face down on the bed, his feet still on the floor and scrabbling for leverage.  But Thor’s arm is a heavy weight across his back, keeping him down.  He’s just realized that he’s actually lying also across Thor’s lap when his ass is suddenly hit.  He’s shocked into absolute stillness at the idea of Thor hitting him. 

But as a second blow is delivered, Thor begins to speak.  “I will not hear you speak that way.  Not about yourself as you would never say such false things about any of our comrades.”

His breath comes out in a rush and Thor must take that as acquiescence.  He is compliant as Thor pulls down the sweatpants he hastily changed into after his earlier shower, and the next blow is sharper without that layer. 

“You are a good man,” Thor continues.  “A good leader.  You have done more than anyone has a right to ask of you.  How can you ask more of yourself?  It is not possible to save everyone.  You are neither perfect nor indestructible, none of us are.”

Steve presses his cheek into the bedcovers as he is spanked, because he realizes now that’s what is happening.  Thor is spanking him like an errant child, but it is the words coming out of Thor’s mouth that keep him there.  He’s heard words like these before, that he is a good man, that he did his best, that no one could have saved them all.  And though they were said in the best of intentions, they were meaningless compared to his grief. 

But that Thor is more than just words.  And maybe that’s enough to make him confront these feelings that are suddenly bubbling up in him like a boiling pot.  Maybe he can accept them like he learned to accept pain such a long time ago.  A lump suddenly appears in his throat and he shifts restlessly, his arms seeking out Thor’s waist in comfort, his head curling in towards the other man.  Thor is not using less than his full strength with each smack of his palm.  Thor feels so strongly that he would protect Steve from even himself. 

A shuddering dry sob leaves Steve’s throat and finally Thor stops spanking him.  Steve is basically curled around the other man now and Thor’s hand strokes over his back, neither of them even noticing how Steve’s pants are around his ankles.  “No one will say you are selfish,” Thor says.  “You are cared about.  I care about you.”

Steve sniffles a little and shifts to turn over.  The pain of his reddened backside is minor compared to his need to get closer.  Thor’s arms around Steve feel like a hug even as the Aesir maneuvers him to sit up.  Steve feels overwhelmed by his emotions, as if a dam has finally broken and all of the pressure has simply come pouring out.  He barely notices as he’s coaxed into standing so he can be stripped completely.  When they’re snuggled in the blankets again, he feels completely relaxed after his cathartic moment. 

He shifts, trying to get closer and only then becomes aware of his erection bumping against Thor’s hairy thigh.  His breath shudders out of him as he purposefully pushes his hips forward again, relishing the pleasure after everything tonight. 

“Yes, my sweet boy,” Thor’s voice rumbles in a lower register than normal.  He brings up his thigh so that Steve’s dick slides into the cut of his hip and Steve stutters out a half-sobbing moan.  “Make yourself feel good.  That’s it.”

Thor’s hands are on his back, curving over his ass that still stings with healing bruises, pulling him in, helping him to feel good, towards orgasm.  His other hand curls over the vulnerable nape of Steve’s neck, cradling him as Steve pants into golden skin.  Steve humps the other man gracelessly, realizing only after he’s come all over Thor’s leghair that he’s not given a thought to his partner.  But he can’t move in Thor’s tight hold, can barely breathe, and for some reason it makes Steve’s eyes feel wet and burn again. 

“Shhh, just sleep,” Thor whispers into his hair and that is the last thing that Steve hears. 

The next day, Steve wakes up feeling awkward about his emotions, about letting Thor treat him like that, but Thor doesn’t give him the opportunity to stew in it.  Every time he begins to feel ashamed for his behavior, Thor simply distracts him.  Minutes after he’s woken, there’s gentle kisses and Thor’s weight pressing him down into the mattress.  They make love face to face, with his thighs tight around Thor’s hips and emotion welling up in both of their eyes. 

After Thor strips the bed after sending him to shower.  Then Steve makes the bed while the alien showers.  Giving him something to do keeps Steve from getting so lost in his own head.  And then Thor is back.  They eat.  They check on the emergency services and those victims unlucky enough to still be in hospital.  They take a stroll through the park and then cuddle on the couch with takeout. 

One day passes, and then two.  And they fall back into their routine without ever discussing it.  But perhaps something has changed.  Steve is more willing and more willing to accept Thor’s comforting tendencies without feeling ashamed of it the next morning.

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

But it’s not enough to stop those days that sneak up on him, pulling him down into memories and regret.  Or maybe it’s his new connection to his emotions that brings these feelings up.  He forgets sometimes how long he’s been in this world.  It feels at once longer than it has been and shorter.  Still some days he feels like things are so strange here.  And that can be exciting and fun and so many things are better here in this future, but now that months have gone by, it hits him again.  That he is never going home.  And suddenly it feels like he will never be able to rest, no place to relax and be himself. 

He stays home from work.  He hadn’t gone to Thor’s room last night so he just turns off his alarm and stays in bed.  He doesn’t get up to run, doesn’t make breakfast despite his stomach’s growling, doesn’t call anyone at SHIELD.  He just can’t. 

When Thor enters with a sandwich just before noon, he encounters a silent hot room.  The only thing stirring are dust motes lazily drifting in the shaded cloistered air.  Steve doesn’t move at all from where he’s collapsed on his side on the bed, the comforter only exposing the jut of one shoulder.  Thor stops at the foot of the bed, seeming surprised as he watches the unmoving lump.  But as Thor forces himself into motion again, his body language changes, as if he’s rushing, needing to be by Steve’s side as if the Captain is mortally wounded.  Thor’s huge body seems to curve over Steve’s form on the bed, though Thor doesn’t touch him but a simple hand placed on the exposed shoulder.  He holds himself tightly before placing the plate on his bedside table with a bottle of water.  Then he just murmurs, “I’ll be right back.”

Steve only blinks slowly in response.  It seems a long time as he stares at the black curtains pulled closed over his floor length window.  But Thor returns with a renewed purpose.  Steve can hear him moving about the room and feels an anxious grip on his lungs.  He doesn’t have the energy to be nice, to play along with whatever Thor has planned in a misguided idea to cheer him up.  He’s bracing himself when Thor then comes over and scoops him out of his nest like a baby.  But with a hitch of his shoulders, Thor sits down on the floor with his cargo still in his arms. 

“I know that you like to draw,” Thor starts, grabbing at the items around them which Steve sees are paper and colored pencils.  “But this time, I thought you could just…use color.  Don’t draw anything in particular, just do what you feel.”

Out of spite, Steve grabs the pencils and simply scrawls all over a paper with a black pencil.  That’s basically how he feels.  But instead of getting upset at Steve’s noncooperation, Thor simply hums and leans back against the room’s only chair.  With his free arm, he chooses a blue pencil himself.  Tired, Steve makes himself comfortable against Thor’s chest as he watches Thor coloring one-handed, the side of his palm holding the paper still.  Slowly, he begins idly coloring one corer a deeper, more deliberate black. 

He feels black and grey, but as he continues, he grabs the red.  When he thinks about the past, it is colored red with blood.  Violence is inescapable in his life.  There is no going home after the war for him.  But as he rubs his cheek against his boyfriend’s chest, he grabs the yellow pencil.  Because if there is one color that represents his partner, it is yellow.  The blonde of his hair, the tan of his skin, his energy, his comfort.  There’s not a lot of room left on the page so it seems like the yellow is smushed in the corner, an afterthought.  And yet it changes the whole scribbled picture. 

His picture complete, he drops the pencil to clench his hand in Thor’s much-loved red plaid shirt.  The other man moves too, shifting against the plush chair that Steve never sits in.  Then Thor’s own drawing is placed under his nose.  “Blue like your eyes, yellow for your hair, grey for your shield, and red for this country you defend.”

The room is silent as the two Avengers simply sit together, sometimes coloring a bit more.  Steve makes one for the team with yellow and red and green and black. Wrapped up in thick arms, he can feel Thor’s face leaning on the top of his head again.  He feels more childlike than ever before, the child that none of them really were growing up in the depression.  Being treated like this doesn’t bother him now.

Breath stirs the greasy strands of his hair as Thor breaks the silence again.  “You have been abed all day.  Come, I will bathe you.”

The mention of water, of being submerged has him clinging to Thor, face tilted up pleadingly.  But still he can’t speak to his discomfort.  He can’t seem to say anything.  He’s depending on Thor to just take care of everything.  And Thor doesn’t let him down. 

“Don’t worry, my sweet boy.  It will be warm, and I will be with you,” Thor shushes him with soft words and gentle strokes of his big hands.  “Stand up so I can get these clothes off,” Thor says though he does most of the work pulling their weight up, herding the supersoldier into the bathroom.   

In any other situations, those words would be arousing, but in this moment, it’s simply taking off another piece of armor, another wall that he’s hid behind.  As the shorts fall to pool on his bathmat, he feels vulnerable in a way that he didn’t even want to admit to himself.  It’s not possible for him to pull himself together and he doesn’t feel Thor wants him to.  There’s no reason to hide. 

Thor strips off his shirt, his back a sensuous curve as he bends over to start the water.  Steve is standing there naked as the Aesir comes back to rub his shoulders and down his arms.  But despite the steam filling the small room, Steve can’t help but shiver as he sits down in the water.  But Thor stays with him the whole way, long tendrils of blonde hair curling around his faces as he kneels shirtless by the tub, carefully lifting handfuls of water that he spills over Steve’s pebbled skin.  He has to coax Steve to lay back from his curled up position hugging his knees so he can swipe the washcloth slowly over Steve’s chest.  The water is only up to the middle of Steve’s chest so he doesn’t feel as if he’s drowning and Thor wrings out the washcloth before wiping off Steve’s face. 

Thor is thorough as he cleans Steve behind his ears, between his fingers, under his knees.  He’s not scrubbing so much as rinsing, but he does take the time to use the single bottle of shampoo that Steve has in his shower, supporting the weight of Steve’s upper body as the captain leans back to expose his throat.  By the time that he has finished, Steve has lifted a hand to cling to one of Thor’s wrists, clinging as Thor encourages him to stand and be dried. 

And though they often sleep naked together, Steve appreciates as Thor kneels to help him into a new pair of boxer shorts and then a tshirt.  Putting on that piece of armor again is a metaphor that this is just another time being knocked down and he will get up as he always does.  But for now, it’s okay that he is not okay.  Thor continues to baby him with a hand rubbing circles on his now clothed back, the other hand gripping the back of his neck as they approach the bed.  Thor climbs on first, sitting up against the headboard but pulling Steve to simply lay against his legs.  A water bottle is lifted to his lips and a few pieces of chocolate, but Thor doesn’t make him eat the sandwich even if he needs it. 

There’s a tv in his bedroom that Steve never turns on, and Thor doesn’t turn it on now.  He pulls up the covers over Steve and begins to tell a story in his deep rumbling voice.  It’s not one of his loud, raucous tales of battle, merry-making, and banquets.  It is a quiet story with talking forest creatures and magic curses and star-crossed lovers.  If he had to guess, Steve would say it is a children’s story.  Sleep washes over him like clouds moving through the sky, Thor’s hand curled around his shoulder and his cheek pressed to the smooth skin of Thor’s lower belly. 

When he wakes, they’re still in the same position and Steve spares a thought to worry for his partner who spent the night in such an uncomfortable position.  Twisting his neck, he sees that Thor’s head has fallen almost onto his shoulder, his hair loose like strands of gold on his tan skin.  Steve debates waking him, but he suspects the damage is already done.  So he contents himself with sliding his hand inside Thor’s loose sweatpants, from his knee down to his ankle, stroking through the golden hair. 

His short nails are barely tickling the inside of Thor’s knee when Thor wakes with a slight snort that transforms into a groan.  Steve turns his face into the soft grey material and tries not to laugh a bit.  He feels better, not as overwhelmed.  And as usual, Thor can pick up on the difference.  After a moment of attempting to stretch out his kinks, he shimmies down into the bedcovers and hugs Steve to his chest, kissing at his cheeks. 

Steve smiles though it’s dim and breathes out Thor’s name.  Yesterday, he couldn’t put into words what he was feeling, but today he’s more interested in Thor and his intentions.  But for long moments all he wants is to run his hands over Thor’s skin as if reacquainting himself after a long absence. 

“Thank you,” Steve starts, because that needs to be said if nothing else.  His hand smooths up the curves of Thor’s chest until his fingers can twirl the long locks again.  He can feel immediately how Thor reacts to the movement, hot breath almost panted out against his forehead.  It’s become a ritual to Steve as well. 

“You like this,” Steve remarks, his words soft from the way that his cheek is mashed into Thor’s shoulder.  “You like…taking care of me.  Like a father,” Steve tries. 

But as soon as he says the word father, he can feel how Thor pulls away from him, somehow rejecting the term.  And it doesn’t feel right to Steve either.  He can barely remember his own father, a distant and hard man that his mother talked about like he was he was some sort of master. 

“No,” Steve tries again, pulling the other man closer, rolling his forehead against Thor’s collarbone for a moment.  “Not father, but you do enjoy treating me like a child sometimes.”

Thor squirms a bit which is so unlike the Aesir that Steve leans back, having to look up to see the other man’s face.  He’s surprised by the embarrassed blush that paints across the alien’s cheekbones.  Thor only glances at Steve’s face before focusing his stormy gaze just above the blonde’s head.  “I don’t want to be your father,” he starts, but he stops and swallows, ducks his chin before he can continue.  “I have never been expected to take care of anyone else.  I have been brash and reckless and selfish before.”

Steve shakes his head and opens his mouth, but Thor shushes him.  “Do not defend me needlessly.”

“Don’t do this just to make up for past mistakes,” Steve implores him. 

“No,” Thor finally looks into his eyes.  “No, it is not that.  And I don’t want to order you around, I want…I want to take care of you.  Before you, Steve, I’ve always been too afraid to do this.  I didn’t want to seem weak and needy.”

It surprises him that Thor has the same fears as Steve himself about this.  “Hey,” Steve murmurs, finally understanding.  “I don’t mind.  I like it.  I…sometimes perhaps I even need it,” he admits.  He drops a kiss down onto a collarbone and shifts until he’s practically on top of his partner.  “Not father, but perhaps Dada?”

“Yes,” Thor agrees easily at seeing Steve’s enthusiasm, “my sweet boy.”  Their eyes finally meet as he pulls Steve in for a long kiss, perhaps trying to avoid talking about it any longer. 

They’re both a little hesitant, a little embarrassed as they agree to separate in order to change and then meet again in the kitchen.  Steve’s stomach is now a shriveled raisin, torturing him, though breakfast has to be a hurried affair.  SHIELD has been more than patient.  He feels like breathing a sigh of relief as he steps outside. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

When Steve gets back at the end of the day though, he’s spent hours in anticipation of seeing Thor again.  Finally understanding what’s happening between them, he’s been able to accept it.  Now he wants to show Thor.  He’s thought of nothing else all day, his skin tingling in anticipation.  He practically runs through the common area to find the other blonde.  But Thor is just sitting in the kitchen, a meal on the table waiting for him.  But the scene is so static, it gives him pause.  It’s not finger foods and Thor has a sheepish look on his face, his legs are tucked under the table. 

Steve spares a moment to be embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.  But it doesn’t stop him as he bites his lip and pulls at Thor’s arm.  The force causes Thor to stumble as he tries to get out from the table, his arms going around Steve’s lean waist as much for balance as anything.  He’s astonished as Steve pulls him into a kiss, still in the public area, where anyone could walk in on them, but he catches onto the excitement quickly.  The balance of power shifts easily as he herds Steve into the elevator, trapping him against the wall even before the doors are closing. 

“Dada, yes,” Steve sighs, tilting his head back.  Thor reacts by shoving him into the wall, as if they could meld together, his teeth biting into Steve’s sensitive neck.

“Say it again,” Thor pleads with him, panting against the fading bite mark.  It suddenly occurs to Steve how much power he has like this. 

Steve gives in immediately, of course.  “Dada,” he tries, but the word devolves into a high-pitched moan as blunt teeth are biting at muscle in his throat again.  Like Thor would devour him. 

They stumble out of the elevator and into his room like a six-legged colt and Steve lets out a little giggle.  Thor is grabbing at his pants so Steve slides off his shirt just in time for Thor to be turning him around and pushing him down on the bed on his knees.  Thor strips in record time.  He’s barely found his balance when Thor’s skin is draped over his back. 

But he’s not done teasing the alien yet.  He twists his neck to look up and back at his lover.  “Take care of me.”

The words come out with a tinge of the vulnerability he feels, but Thor’s response is worth it.  Steve looks up through his thick fringe of eyelashes, watching as Thor kisses the edge of his mouth, his ear, his shoulder.  And then that mouth is moving, sucking hard kisses in a pattern down the shifting muscles of his back. 

As the mouth moves down further, a heavy hand pushes his shoulder blades down til he’s resting his chest on the bed.  To get comfortable he moves his arms overhead, gripping the sheets in his fists as that mouth moves over one asscheek, tantalizing close.  Steve pushes up in shock as that mouth kisses his hole and then licks over the tight furls there. 

His first instinct might be to stop Thor but they’ve come too far for Steve to doubt Thor now.  And it feels amazing as Thor presses in further and his beard roughs over the sensitive skin.  But Thor isn’t about to let him get away.  As soon as he’s collapsed back to the bed, Thor’s arms wrap around the juncture of leg and body.  Thor lifts Steve’s knees off the bed, bending Steve into a deeper fold.  Thor knows how Steve reacts to penetration and that smooth muscle of his tongue pushes into him.  Steve can’t help the way that his leg jerks, kicking back, but Thor’s control of him is unbreakable. 

Thor pulls back only to suck hard on that winking hole and Steve practically screams before he bites it off.  When he is let down, he sinks down onto his belly, his cock finally getting a little friction.  But he doesn’t get a chance to hump the covers as Thor pulls his hips back up so that his cock can slide between Steve’s cheeks.  The curve of Thor’s back is a slope as he deliberately angles himself, the head of his cock catching on the rim of Steve’s stretched hole.  It is a tease that makes Steve’s breath catch. 

Not for long.  Steve pushes against the headboard, dragging his chest against sheets that suddenly feel rough against his hot skin, but he’s suddenly flipped onto his back.  In a show of strength, Thor pulls Steve up onto his thighs, elevating his hips so that his legs fall open and back toward his chest.  Thor’s cock rubs up against the small of his back, a firebrand as Thor leans over him, sucking a mark into his lower belly before moving up to his nipples.  The force of the suckling has Steve clawing at the sheets above his head and yet arching up into Thor’s mouth. 

“Dada, please,” Steve grits out before turnings his face into his own bicep, biting at the skin there.  His dick is drooling a puddle on his abs.  “Please, please,” he murmurs, mindlessly begging. 

Steve feels like a puddle himself as Thor finally pushes into him.  His mouth drops open, but he’s silent as he feels the burn of the stretch.  And Thor doesn’t stop until he’s fully inside, the base of his dick stretching Steve’s hole.  Thor pauses, his strength holding Steve still as he leans down to kiss Steve’s neck and up to his lips. 

Slowly Thor sits up in order to thrust, leaning his weight on Steve’s shinbones so that his knees are in his armpits.  The first is like a punch, short and hard, and directly over Steve’s prostate.  Steve is overwhelmed again, he lifts his chin and closes his eyes to concentrate just on the amazing sensation. 

“There?” Thor queries, though the answer is writ on Steve’s face.  “Is that your spot, my boy?”

Steve can barely force himself to breathe, but he grits out like a dying animal, “Yes, Dada!”

He can’t stop himself from reaching for his dick then, using his fingers to stroke over the head.  His eyelashes and he can see Thor through their fan, a golden god with sweat beading on his skin, his muscles tense and bunched, his pecs and biceps bulging.  His hair has come undone and swings in front of his face and Steve itches to touch again.  And then a particularly hard thrust has Steve coming despite the light touch on his own cock.  Hot droplets hit his chin and he gasps. 

Thor’s thrusts slow but Steve knows that he hasn’t orgasmed yet.  “Keep going,” he says desperately.  “I want you.”

Slowly, Thor bends over him, smoothing a hand over Steve’s cheek reverently.  Then he gently knocks their forehead together.  He presses forward, his abs clenching to drive his dick deeper.  Steve gasps, boneless and overstimulated and still accepting whatever Thor does to him.  Wordlessly pleading, he lifts his chin for a kiss.  Thor quickly shoves Steve’s legs straight so that the supersoldier is bent in half, his ankles near his wrists, stretched out above his head.  Thor’s weight entirely on top of him so that their chests rub together slickly.  The kisses are sloppy and wet.

“I’ve got you,” Thor whispers into his ear, nonsensically.  “I’ve got you.”

And Steve believes him.


End file.
